They're Not Geeks Anymore
by ClassyMuse
Summary: He had a habit of making fun of the band kids when he was younger because, well, they were geeks. The ones who marched in college were just as bad, or so he thought. Just a one shot dedicated to any of us who picked up an instrument and wore the "geek" label with pride.


_**I'm going to pretend that Cassie did not exist and that this is the first time Dean had traveled to Athens, Ohio, home to Ohio University, my alma matar, and my band, The Marching 110.**_

It was just a poltergeist from the testaments of the residents of Sigma Phi Epsilon house. Poltergeists were nasty business, but this one wouldn't be something to shy away from. Dean and Sam needed a little break from all those damn demons that were running amuck across the U.S. It wouldn't take long especially since the university had asked the residents to vacate and move in with friends until further notice. Officially, as far as the rest of the world was concerned, the place was just old and needed some mild renovation to make it structurally sound, but The Winchesters knew better. It just happened to be a great cover.

There were a few downsides. For one thing, it was a sorority house. Dean watched the girls around campus as he struggled to find a parking spot in Athens, Ohio and hoped against hope that those three Greek letters belonged to them, not oversized douchebags. All dressed up for nothing other than keeping the gig covert. He could have sworn that while he was interviewing the house president that he saw one of the bros getting too close for comfort to his car with a beer can in hand, probably fucking with his muffler. Dean was mentally punching himself realizing that not only it was a Friday in the fall semester but he was in the middle of the number one party school in the country. It was a gig, but it was a gig Sam picked. Of course he would pick something and someplace that would bring him back to his nostalgic days at Stanford. He was going to beat some sense into his brother for this.

Sam was already at the other skeevy motel clear across from the main campus, working on more research on the campus and its history, already proving to be an ordeal since the university was the oldest in the northwest territory. Throw in an abandoned insane asylum, older than dirt buildings, crying angel statues; Athens was a cluster fuck. In situations such as that the method of madness was to divide and conquer.

While Dean got a good bit of information from the house president he felt like he needed to get more from someone on the outside. He had gotten a list of possible recruits easily and began to track them down just to see if the spirit was only directly linked to the house and not the people/'family'. Surprisingly he managed to hunt down three of them and two more conveniently lived in the same dorm room on this place called 'the west green'; too bad one wasn't home. The roommate was helpful but said his buddy would know more. When Dean asked where his roommate was he replied, "At Pruitt field, across the parking lot. He's there for hours everyday. You won't be able to get a hold of him until about seven."

Dean looked suspiciously at the college kid, "Why would he be in a field for hours everyday?" Typically that sent red flags in Dean's mind that something was being conjured.

"No, no. On a field."

"Oh. Some kind of team?"

The kid scoffed, "I wouldn't say it was a team. I'd call it a cult, but hey, they're famous." His attitude about a cult seemed just a little too relaxed and cheery for Dean's comfort. The only famous cults out there were the ones that got people killed.

It was ten till five that day when Dean made it out to the field. It was just a patch of turf, a track, and roughly two hundred people running armed with instruments.

Dear god, it was a herd of band geeks. After one sighting of a tuba Dean just knew his day had gone from mildly frustrating to downright miserable. He wasn't going anywhere though until he got the kid to talk; his roommate said he played trombone, big guy, can't miss him. He settled on bench in the stands squinting against the sunlight. The girls were pretty cute considering they all looked the same, hair pulled back, t-shirts and shorts, all practical looking. The band kids Dean had seen during his school days were all nerds, scrawny and downright awkward looking. It looked like time did most of those kids some good. As most of them gathered on the yard lines with their instruments lined neatly in front of them he caught glimpses of the girls taking off their shirt and just running about in a sports bra. Hey it was warm enough and he wasn't going to complain. Holy jesus, they were so tan, and not that fake look either.

It seemed as if the band geek girls got hot as soon as they got to college.

As soon as it hit five a whistle blew and it was silent on the field. Everyone snapped into what looked like a ready position, except for the guy with the whistle. Then they were all off running.

Seemed like a basic warm up until they started to stretch. Oh boy did Dean love to watch the girls do that. Funny, he never thought he would look at a band geek that way.

These guys moved and formed with a crazy amount of efficiency and snap that would impress his marine father. It was kind of scary and pretty cool to see close to two hundred and fifty people lined up and moving like a bunch of toy soldiers. Dean could hear voices above him; standing on top of what looked like the press box was an older gentlemen and two younger guys. The older guy on the mic sounded southern, so what the hell was he doing in Ohio of all places?

"Okay, because if you haven't noticed the big storm cloud on your weather radar this afternoon and lingering over the Convo, we're just gonna run through the show for tomorrow. We still don't exactly have an across-the-field just yet for next week because Ken is working on it, but you will be getting music for playing arc provided we don't get too rained out."

'Too rained out'? Dean questioned.

Just as quickly as they began the band nerds got into a different formation on the sidelines. It appeared that the drumline would run onto the field first in the center. It was dead quiet.

Boom, boom, boom, boom from the bass drum. It caught Dean off guard.

"READY TWO THREE FOUR!" You know, despite a impressive female population, the group sounded very…manly.

It looked like they were doing typical band-like things, marching onto the field, snapping their instruments up into their faces and watching the old guy move his arms around. Dean readied himself to be bored, at least for a second.

After a few seconds it was obvious what they were playing and he hadn't heard anything like it. They were playing "Dreams" by Van Halen! Although he wasn't a Van Halen fan he could really appreciate what they were doing.

Just as soon as it began, which was awesome in his eyes, the band nerds were silent again. Dean was impressed.

Again they started playing and marching and breaking into a block. No doubt about what they were playing. "Panama". They looked like they were having fun. At least that made sense for the high school band geeks that kept doing it with fervor; the band looked like fun. Out of nowhere the playing stopped all together with the exception of the drumline and ducked down to the ground.

It looked like they were…dancing? Holy shit they were. They went as far as dropping their horns and jumping into the air guitar pose. One spin later they literally dropped into a pose, spun onto their backs and held their legs open. Of course it was sexually suggestive in his mind, even though a bunch of the dudes in the band were doing it too.

They were doing things that Dean Winchester wouldn't do even if he was in better physical shape. Lots of getting up and down, practically jumping from a laying position off the turf. Then there came the systematic dropping, no, spin and splits. Impressed was an understatement.

They started playing again just finishing up what Dean knew was the end. It was silent afterwards and Dean contemplated applausing, but he was the only non-band person in the stands. The temperature in the air dropped and the sun was about to disappear behind a dark storm cloud. That didn't look good. Why the hell are they still out there? he thought.

Ohio weather was odd. Sunny one minute and looking like the end of the world the next.

A lightning bolt flashed across the sky not even two seconds after that thought. The director guy must have seen it too. He called everyone to the front of the stands and spoke to them without the mic. After a few moments, the whole band quickly disbanded. Tubas and percussion off to one side of the field, everyone else running to their cars or dorms. Dean kept an eye on the kid he had to talk to and met him at the track gate. The closer look he got of him he realized that "big guy" was an understatement. He wasn't that tall, he was just built. Something about that with an added trombone didn't compute.

Per the usual protocol Dean flipped his fake badge in front of the kid. "What's your name?"

The kid looked uneasy seeing a badge. "Nick Likens, but they all call me Kiwi."

"Why the hell do they call you Kiwi?"

"It's the one-ten, don't question it," the kid chuckled.

"The one-ten?"

"Yeah, the Marching 110. You live under a rock or something?"

/ / /

The storm raged on outside of the skeevy motel off the hill not far from campus causing the lights to flicker on and off, but the wifi held strong. It was nearly two in the morning and Sam had fallen asleep unable to find anything else to help them with the case until Bobby got back to them. Dean was still awake however perusing the internet, mostly youtube. No Busty Asian porn tonight though. He caught the band bug. He was watching everything this 110 had done in the last decade or so with a few exceptions of some grainy images from the eighties.

It completely changed his minds about band geeks.

_**I know it sucks, but Dean needs to respect the geeks. **_


End file.
